The Case of the Lady in Distress
by Iva1201
Summary: My take on the behind-the-scenes happening in His Last Vow - starting with Lady Smallwood visiting Sherlock. Obviously full of spoilers of Season 3, especially HLV. Enjoy and please review.
1. Chapter 1

**The Case of the Lady in Distress **

_A/N: This is something I shouldn't do. I do not have the time. I really don't. But then His Last Vow, while being a very good episode, simply calls for someone to write the missing scenes, the pieces of the story which happened off-screen – and I was so far not able to find a fic that would properly deal with the drug den/crack house scene – one of my favourites in ACD's canon, btw… (-:_

_Not beta read or britpicked – you have been forewarned. _

ooooo

_One week after John's wedding_

Mrs. Hudson was just about to go and scold Sherlock for his tonight's violin screeching _(terrible, horrible sounds, which were pulling at her ears – so unlike the pleasant waltz the dear boy had composed for John and Mary, a pity, really)_, when the sounds abruptly stopped _(to Martha Hudson's great relief)_ and her tenant's curly head appeared above the railing of the staircase, beaming at her: "A client, Mrs. Hudson!" _(the boy seemed comforted himself, Mrs. Hudson noticed – probably didn't like the sounds himself, poor dear)_ "Bring the Lady in – and don't forget we shall need tea!"

_(Mrs. Hudson was about to give him a smile for calling a woman "a lady" – he wasn't usually that polite, was he? – but the demand for tea forced her to change her mind._) "Not your housekeeper, dear!" she reminded loudly so that even he would notice _(poor Mrs. Hudson hadn't realised yet that Sherlock was filtering her most of the time)._ More quietly, more or less to herself only, she added: "I really need to speak to your mother, Sherlock. It's becoming a list already." _(Probably shorter than Sherlock's own and definitely no file of Mycroft's, though.) _

The bell rang then and Mrs. Hudson opened the door to an aristocratic looking woman in her late fifties. "Lady Elizabeth Smallwood to see Sherlock Holmes," she announced, offering a card.

"No need, dear. Mr. Holmes will see you," Mrs. Hudson smiled pleasantly, happy that one of Sherlock's clients looked so smartly – and not caring a tiny bit she possibly might not be calling a Lady a dear. _(Mycroft, whom the Lady reminded her off, had never exactly minded either, had he?)_

"Mrs. Hudson!" Sherlock bellowed from above in exactly that point, clearly becoming impatient, starting her.

"No need to cry, dear, we are on the way!" she replied aloud – and then leaned to her tenant's visitor in a much lower, confidential tone: "He was a tiny bit bored, poor dear, with Scotland Yard not having any interesting cases and his partner, Dr. Watson, a newly wed. But even Sherlock Holmes has enough manners as to not disturb a honeymoon _(although he very much yearned for doing just that, she added quietly to herself, good that I was able to talk him out of that idea!)_. But you are bringing him a new case now, so all will be well in just a moment."

Mrs. Hudson and Lady Smallwood reached the top of the staircase then and Martha Hudson pointed invitingly at Sherlock's open sitting room door. "Lady Smallwood, Sherlock, dear, to see you," she announced loudly while the lady entered the messy room. Then the "not-your-housekeeper" landlady turned to the young man's kitchen to make the requested tea. Yet, as the kettle obviously served for experiments once more _(did Sherlock indeed heated or boiled blood in it? Mrs. Hudson hoped it wasn't human at least – but opted better not to ask for the calm of her mind)_, she finally decided to better return to her own kitchen and prepare the tea there _(Sherlock was getting her more herbal remedy for her hip for this! – he knew the right people after all). _

ooooo

In the same time upstairs Sherlock was proving that his mother raised him up a decent human being after all – when he decided to act upon it.

"Lady Smallwood," he acknowledged. "A pleasure to meet you." Sherlock even slightly bowed his head – but not enough as to loose eye contact with his visitor. His mind was rapidly cataloguing: _member of the aristocracy – worried – employed as a lawyer or a politician judging by her attire – upset – no monetary worries judging be her jewels – her husband then? – annoyed – not with the husband, though – someone who threatened him then? – or them both? – not a lawyer then for her to be affected so much as to search out assistance of a private detective – not a low positioned politician either – someone from the government? – no, they wouldn't visit themselves, remember the Belgravia case (no, do not think of Irene Adler now!) – a member of the shadow administration then – someone who trusts in my abilities – search for Mycroft then…_

"How is Mycroft these days?" Sherlock asked politely, showing his visitor to John's armchair and taking a seat in his own.

Elisabeth Smallwood looked up at him, clearly startled. "How could have your brother possibly known I shall search you out?"

She obviously thought Mycroft called him, Sherlock smirked. But she didn't seem boring and he didn't want to loose her case – so he rapidly clarified: "He didn't know, Lady Smallwood. I haven't even spoken with my brother for almost a week now. But you are obviously one of the people who are ruling our country from the shadows – such as my dear brother. Conclusion: you must know Mycroft. And then the other indication: you obviously know about me. And by knowing I mean trusting in my abilities while believing me discreet enough. I understand that this is not an easy trait these days, not with John Watson's blog documenting most of our cases, despite my colleague likes to romanticise our "adventures" as he tends to call them. You must know Mycroft well enough then for him to have spoken with you about me – most likely in connection with one of the cases I solved for him. My question once more then: How is my dear brother?"

"I am starting to truly believe in your abilities, Mr. Holmes." Lady Smallwood smiled softly, avoiding to answer Sherlock's question. Mycroft was his brother, for heaven's sake – it wouldn't hurt either of them to pick up a phone and make a call to find out how the other was doing once in a while.

"I am in dire need of your help, Mr. Holmes," Elisabeth Smallwood went on. "I need you to acquire a compromising set of letters for me. While their publication possibly would not initially harm my own reputation, they would greatly damage the name of my husband. His discrediting would consequently affect my position in the government to a great extent, I believe."

Sherlock nodded, interested. "What sort of letters are we speaking about?"

"Very personal ones," Lady Smallwood clarified, then fell silent again.

Sherlock had a strange sense of déjà vu. No, he was not falling for the same trap again – there would be no repeating of the Belgravia case. He shrugged his shoulders: "I'm not interested in such a case, I am afraid. Ask Mycroft for a MI6 agent."

Elisabeth Smallwood frowned. She tried to recall what the problem was Mycroft Holmes requested his brother's assistance with prior to his disappearance two and half years ago. The Bond flight, right? And Mycroft and Harry tried to cover it with some ridiculous story of stolen compromising photographs…

"I am searching for a very particular set of letters written by my husband to one Helen Catherine Driscoll in 1982, Mr. Holmes," Lady Smallwood explained. "The girl, while looking older, was fifteen. The letters, shall we put it mildly, are of erotic nature. They are currently owned by Charles Augustus Magnussen – and while Mr. Magnussen no doubt is in possession also of numerous other compromising documents and sensitive information, I assure you that this case is just what it seems to be – I and neither any other member of the British government including Mycroft shall not expect you to obtain any other documents from Mr. Magnussen." The lady looked up at Sherlock in that moment and requested: "Will you take my case?"

Sherlock Holmes was eyeing her with well hidden interest. To his visitor he looked almost bored. But then he gave a nod. "Yes, I will take your case," he assured and Lady Smallwood smiled in relief.

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_Liked it? Then __please__ review. If the reaction is good, I shall go on with another behind-the-scenes piece(s) from HLV soon._


	2. Chapter 2

**The Case of the Lady in Distress **

**Chapter 2**

_A/N: Please, enjoy, and remember to review if you like the story. I am unfortunately very busy and your reviews are my main motivation to write fanfiction._

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_One day later_

It was still early in the morning when Mrs. Hudson brought up Sherlock's tea and a few freshly backed scones. To her astonishment, her tenant was not only awake but fully dressed and clearly on his way out.

"Ah, Mrs. Hudson," he greeted her with an amiable smile _(Caution! The boy had most likely damaged her walls again – or wanted her to do something for him. Shopping again? Not your house-keeper, dear, remember that for once!)_ "Just the person I wanted to speak to." _(Perhaps, dear, you could have knocked on my door then? I was home, you know.)_ "I am in need of your help. You are a woman, aren't you?"

Mrs. Hudson frowned at the – hopefully purely rhetorical – question. "Yes, dear, I suppose I am," she confirmed, shaking her head in disbelief. "Is this some sort of experiment, Sherlock?" _(There couldn't be any other reason for his question, right?)_

"Excellent," Sherlock offered her one of his wide, slightly predatory smiles; completely ignoring her question. "Then you will no doubt be able to answer my question. How does one seduce a woman?"

"_Seduce,_ dear? And _a woman?_" Mrs. Hudson repeated slowly, obviously taken aback. "But, dear, I have thought you were not interested in dating anyone…" She frowned a little, pondering the problem for a moment. Then her hand flew to her face in astonishment. "Oh, poor dear," she whispered, her voice full of sympathy, "you had feelings for John after all, hadn't you? But, Sherlock, why a woman then? Wouldn't a nice, handsome young man be much more suitable for you?"

Sherlock wasn't paying much attention to her tirade. But he clearly heard her last sentence well. "I am not interested in men at present," he clarified and absentmindedly took the tea cup and a scone from the tray she had brought up earlier and thoughtlessly munched on his breakfast.

"No, I need to date a woman," he repeated once the scone was gone and the empty cup returned to the tray. "But _how?_ How does one convince a person that they fancy them?" Sherlock jumped up and paced the room recklessly. "Mrs. Hudson, you were married – how had you persuaded your husband to marry you? And no, I am not interested in your chief bridesmaid's fate this time, as tragic as it was!"

Mrs. Hudson stood now just next to Sherlock who for the moment stilled in anticipation of her answer. She nodded her head sadly and pated his arm in compassion, well remembering the loss of her own best friend all those years ago. _But she had forewarned Sherlock that this might happen, hadn't she?_

"I know, dear boy, it must be so very hard for you," she said kindly, deciding against the repetition of their discussion from one week ago. _(It wouldn't hurt any less if they spoke about it more.)_ "To lose your best friend like that. No, do not be afraid, I shall not remind you of your loss again. And yes, if you think a nice, pretty girl would help you more to get over John, I will be only happy to help you. What do you wish to know?"

ooooo

Many miles away, John and Mary Watson lay side by side on a sandy beach bathed in the late afternoon sun, John softly caressing Mary's hair.

"I love you," he whispered, still astonished they were finally married.

Mary simply smiled in answer, turning her head slightly and kissing the hand that was caressing her earlier.

"I am very happy," she replied similarly softly, making John smile contently. He was incredibly happy, too. His only regret, possibly, that some of his closest friends would very likely not have the chance to live through such bliss themselves. Sherlock in particular, John thought sadly. But then he tried to envision Sherlock asking a girl (or a young man?) out – and he chuckled, his short-lived misery for the sake of his best friend disappearing. No, this simply was not happening. Sherlock was not built to date anyone…

Little did he know that back in London Sherlock just invited Janine for his first date ever.

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_Please, review. Thanks for reading!_


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